


still you're my favourite (work of art)

by fivesecrets



Category: Glee
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26139319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivesecrets/pseuds/fivesecrets
Summary: Losing himself in her was simply second nature, there was something about her that chased away every inhibition and sense yelling at him to stop, to not do this here, or the others were going to get a show.  She could cloud his mind in milliseconds, contort all his thoughts into nothing more than a hazy mesh of her name with nothing more than the slide of her lips against his own.Then, he feels Mr Schue's hand on his shoulder and the rest of the world comes crashing back in.Or, in which Mike's fidgety, and turned on, and really, he's run out of ways to describe Tina.
Relationships: Mike Chang/Tina Cohen-Chang
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	still you're my favourite (work of art)

**Author's Note:**

> • the only inspiration for this is my current unhealthy crush on harry shum jr. and my need to get this out of my system  
> • also tike should've been endgame and i will die mad even though i got into glee like a month ago who cares  
> • this is literally terrible please no one read this also the ending is REALLY BAD because i can't write endings  
> • set after tina's mini-speech about acceptance in _born this way_ and the tike kiss  
> • title from _my funny valentine_ by frank sinatra

After a little over a year in the Glee Club, Mike had learnt precisely when to tune out of what was going on in the choir room. He loved the rest of the group, but the nature of the club sometimes posed a massive problem in the sense that almost all of them were much higher than he was on the scale of being a diva, meaning he was sometimes caught in the middle of some full-scale egotistical histrionics. 

He was grateful for them, though, for how instantly they’d accepted him, someone who much preferred to dance, when he’d stepped into what was a plethora of vocal talent for the first time. Beforehand, he hadn’t really had many friends at McKinley, even in spite of joining the football team in his first year, which had provided an excellent facade of seeming like he fitted right in. The side offering of almost constant adoration from the rest of the students wasn’t something he was adverse to either, but most of the other guys on the team weren’t exactly what he’d call friends, and he wasn’t immune to bouts of something that had felt like crushing loneliness. 

Even so, right then, he was definitely letting himself drift away from the small room, away from Rachel (standing in front of them like she did at least three times a rehearsal) droning on about what her nose would look like after surgery, clutching something Mike thought looked like scans, and _god_ , he could not be asked to give a shit. He was already mentally exhausted from trying to get Finn through a dance routine that wasn’t even that complex, and he was pretty sure his brain had given up when Rachel had barely waited for his and Finn’s music to die out before piping up to try and change the subject to her.

There was someone who could cut through all his defences with just the sweet tone of her voice, and as disinterested as he was in the topic, he couldn’t help but snap to attention when Tina began to protest.

“Yes, we know, that’s all any of us have been talking about, and we think it’s a terrible idea--,”

He loved it when she spoke, not least of all because it gave him a chance to stare at her without having to be inconspicuous, but he also must be going mad because everything she said sounded so measured, so agreeable, yet only as it was coming from her. If he hadn’t found out from Artie that her stutter had been fake, he probably would be dead with pride by now at how easily she talked. 

“Blue eyes, you’re such a hypocrite!” Rachel’s tone was snarky, low tone making it all the more venomous, and Mike couldn’t stop himself from bristling with annoyance. Yet Tina sounded wholly thoughtful, unbothered, and it was only his distraction with her that kept him from cutting in at the offending woman.

She held his attention so effortlessly, he could catch the beautiful glint in her eyes that meant she was being genuine as she challenged Rachel’s obvious deflection, and he couldn’t hold himself back. It was so gorgeous, _she_ was so gorgeous, and his heart was swelling in a way that was going to become painful if he didn’t do something about it soon.

“If I don’t have many Asian sex symbols to look up to,” Tina says, the ghost of a smile forming on her lips, “then I have an obligation to become one myself. My new mantra is, be the change you want to see in the world.”

She glances at Mike, entire face lit up and part of him is wondering how the hell he was lucky enough to end up with her; the now-familiar sensation washing over him and rendering him a little useless, not caring how it might sound to the others when he stumbles over how he feels about her, because she has to know. The rest of them can get fucked.

Later, he knows he should probably lie on his bed and stare at the ceiling, chastising himself for how he allowed himself to get in this deep for someone before he’d even finished high school, except he knows he won’t. How could he, when Tina huffs a laugh and leans in to kiss him?

Losing himself in her was simply second nature, there was something about her that chased away every inhibition and sense yelling at him to stop, to not do this here, or the others were going to get a show. She could cloud his mind in milliseconds, contort all his thoughts into nothing more than a hazy mesh of her name with nothing more than the slide of her lips against his own.

Then, he feels Mr Schue’s hand on his shoulder and the rest of the world comes crashing back in. 

He feels his skin heat up as he glances around the room, watches Brittany tentatively uncover her eyes and being unable to miss the look of sheer disgust that crosses Santana’s face (and the way she turns to look at the other cheerleader, and even though Mike can’t see her eyes, he’s almost certain there’s a flicker of longing in them). It’s all irrelevant in reality, floats out of his head the second he registers Tina’s hand sitting innocently on the upper curve of his thigh, and for once in his life he’s relieved when Rachel starts rambling on again because if his girlfriend doesn’t move _soon_ , it’s going to be incredibly embarrassing due to the fact his blood is beginning to flame and flow south.

“Tina,” he whispers, keeping his eyes fixated on Rachel as she darts around the room handing out her pile of scans in the hope it’ll keep him more sane than Tina’s allowing, “you’ve got to stop that.”

“Stop what?” She murmurs back, and if he didn’t know her so well he’d miss the subtle hint of mockery beneath the innocence she’s laying on thick. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You are, and I think you know exactly what it is you’re doing.”

He catches Tina smirking in his peripheral vision, forcing his consciousness to be a measured, endless stream of ‘focus on Rachel’ and thanking whatever deity that may be listening that the girl has such an obnoxious voice, but his girlfriend simply retaliates by sliding her hand higher.

In the grand scheme of things, what she’s doing to him wouldn’t even place on a ranking list of the worst things Mike suspects have happened in this room; but it’s so unlike them he’s sure it’s written all over his face and anyone who looks at them is going to be able to work it out immediately and he will never live it down.

The low thrum in his veins that he knows is a precursor to getting hard is starting to render him dizzy, the kind of way that’s definitely dangerous because she knows that he can fall out of control so easily, and they might be in school but there’s a point of no return for him, and he’s pretty sure his girlfriend is going to shove him off into the abyss at a hundred miles an hour. His sense is bleeding out of him with every soft trace of her fingertips along the seam of his jeans, yet her eyes are off him now, trained innocently on Finn trying not to say Rachel is beautiful explicitly in front of Quinn.

When Tina’s hand brushes teasingly across his crotch, he jerks his leg away so abruptly it almost captures Mr Schue’s attention (fuck, he’d forgotten their teacher had been sitting right next to them and _he is going to kill Tina for this_ ), biting down on his lip to keep the curse from falling out so hard it draws blood. 

Blood is slowly forming back from fire when the bell jolts him back into the room, the rest of the club not paying him a second glance as they file out of the club in groups for their last lesson of the day. Tina, however, waves Brittany off when the cheerleader approaches her exclaiming something about the type of cupcakes she was going to make in their cookery class (Mike could’ve sworn Tina said they were making scones), but she whirls around quick enough to catch him trying to discreetly check if it was safe to get up.

“Want to come to mine after school?”

Part of him wants to decline as payback for working him up, but he is human after all and his girlfriend is probably the hottest person on the planet. 

“Yeah sure,” he says, firing off texts to his parents under the alias of studying. “Meet you in the usual place?”

She nods, leaning up on tiptoe to kiss him softly on the lips and it takes all his willpower to not fall into another makeout session, and he’s so out of it he’s still awkwardly rooted to the floor while she’s already halfway down the corridor, half-skipping to catch up with Brittany and Santana.

“Hey,” Finn drawls, appearing with Puck at his side, “can’t exactly be late for Spanish if Schue knows where we’ve been.”

“Figgins did this deliberately,” Puck says, “now I can’t skip this too!”

“I don’t think Figgins sets the timetables,” Mike says, suppressing a smile at Puck’s exaggerated misery, “I don’t actually think Figgins does anything.”

It’s a strain, trying to keep up with them and their effortless quips, and it’s even worse once he’s in Spanish, listening to Mr Schue stumble through something about conjugating verbs when all he wants to do is think about Tina. He knows it’s hurtling headlong towards something borderline unhealthy, knows next year his parents are going to be on him even more than they already are, words like ‘Harvard,’ ‘Stanford,’ and ‘Yale’ circulating around their dining table with ever more alarming frequency, and he knows, deep down, that they’re going to try and make him think Tina is a distraction. He wouldn’t even be able to blame them for it.

Really, she’s been a distraction from the second he’d caught sight of her during _Somebody to Love_.

It would’ve been so easy to miss her, overshadowed by the powerhouses like Rachel and Mercedes, simply singing back-up, but Mike couldn’t. Joy had plastered itself across her face like she wasn’t meant to be anywhere else, ensnaring his heart for the briefest of moments even back then, yet she’d turned and fallen into Artie’s arms and suddenly she was off-limits.

Interfering in other people’s relationships was not something Mike wanted to do, but he still remembers the fizzing sense of anger that would plague him when he’d overhear some of the shit Artie would say to her. Part of him chastised himself, swearing jealousy had overcome him, but there was no jealousy in his fury at Tina’s hurt expressions. He could’ve punched Artie, disability be damned, and it was childishly clutching to that emotion that had overwhelmed him with smugness when Tina had asked him to dance.

Performing had provided him with flashes of possibility, too short to savour because they’d be over before he realised they were happening: the way she twirled into his arms at Sectionals, while Artie was paired with Quinn; the cute wave she had directed at him as they spun past each other during _Hello, Goodbye,_ it was all so fleeting and so, so fucking teasing. It felt like indulging in the worst temptation when he’d stepped out on the stage with his hand curled around her waist, but he had not been able to bring himself to care.

From then on, it had been impossible to ignore how he felt, how perfect _it_ felt when she was in his arms, spinning slowly with his thumb stroking her side, private, them alone, and being able to forget that what was happening was strictly professional. The whole thing had consumed him, with no intention of letting him slip away from the clutches of being kind-of-sort-of in love with her.

The instant she had pulled him in by the jacket and kissed him that first time, he’d have killed for her in a heartbeat, or dropped to his knees and touched her wherever she wanted.

‘Fuck,’ he thought as Mr Schue called on him to answer something, even though it didn’t really matter; he could stammer something sounding vaguely Spanish and the teacher would go for it. Spanish was a write-off, even more so when he thought back to Tina’s hands resting on him earlier.

His love for her felt like a tsunami sometimes, crashing over him and cutting off his oxygen supply, however she always looks unbothered, and the uncertainty is so fucking addicting.

She was the sun, and he was stuck in a helpless orbit, drawn towards her by a gravitational pull that was fucking with him, repelled by her own beauty, his own disbelief that she was actually real, and fucking hell, Mike is weak.

Thinking of her is like a death wish, his musing could only remain innocent for a limited period and he was reaching the end of his tether. His mother had burst in on them the last time they’d tried to do anything, and luckily for his home atmosphere, she’d caught them doing nothing more than making out, fully clothed, but even then Mike had been forced to dive beneath his duvet to hide the erection he’d gotten. Since then, they haven’t had the time alone, Tina too cautious of every sound that echoed through his house to really lose herself in him, her own parents working from home for the past couple of weeks, the two of them coming no closer to what Mike (and now, apparently Tina too) wanted than heatedly kissing in a science classroom before his girlfriend had whispered the football coach’s name.

Mike is a driven person, if conflicted that his dreams contrast starkly with what he knows his parents have planned for him, but Tina is gorgeous, and he’s kind of dying without her hand on him. He has no idea when he spiralled off into such a level of debauchery, but it was probably the first time he saw Tina with the aroused glint in her eyes.

His vision is hazed with his distraction, he’s vaguely aware Schue’s writing something on the whiteboard that looks like a homework assignment, that the hands on the clock have mercifully shifted ever closer to the final bell. 

* * *

When the sound does blare through the room, unlike normal, he’s the first one out of the door. He knows Finn and Puck are going to be a little pissed off, and at some point once everything washes back in he’s going to have to ask his girlfriend to help him conjure up some kind of believable excuse, but for now all his energy is spent on making sure he doesn’t traipse down the corridor of school with an obvious boner.

Really, he knows he shouldn’t be almost running to their meeting point, knows that his desperation will curse him into Tina being let out of class late, or Brittany clinging along with her talking about Santana’s effortless beauty.

The cheerleader would have a point, all the girls in the club are beautiful, but Tina is something else, and god, has Mike always felt like that.

Late winter wind whistles through the trees as Mike heads towards the field, the chill icing his blood slightly, travelling towards his heart and fusing with the fire his heartbeat had formed with its thudding. It combines with the way it all thins when he sees her, standing innocently underneath one of the trees, alone, hair fluttering gently around her shoulders, looking completely different to the image of Tina he’s been lusting after for the past hour, but somehow even more stunning.

He notices the tiniest trace of flour smeared across her cheeks as he gets closer, stuttering out a greeting as he brings a hand up to wipe it off, heart skipping and stuttering all out of control when she smiles up at him.

“You okay?” She mumbles, quiet although she has no need to be. No one’s paying them any attention.

Mike can tell she doesn’t believe him when he mumbles assent.

Tina’s house’s location has nothing but an endless list of advantages, particularly with the state Mike’s in, because if he tried to drive while Tina so much as just _sat there_ , he’s certain he’d melt back into the fidgety mess he probably was the entirety of Spanish, and he’s even more certain the two of them would end up in hospital. Not least because he knows Tina’s hand would revert to resting maliciously on his thigh, or maybe she’d lean across and unbutton his jeans, and _fuck_ , Mike is absolutely gone and they’ve got about three seconds to get across the threshold of Tina’s home.

But, in reality, he has to last a little longer than the three seconds he thought he’d have before he gave out and came right there in the middle of the street (holy _fuck,_ what has _happened_ to him?), but the overwhelming threat is still hanging over him, encompassing him in a deliciously tempting shadow.

The weight of Tina’s hand in his own barely counts as a distraction, but it’s all he’s got.

Hoping for coherent thoughts in his girlfriend’s presence is often too much to ask for at the best of times, but right now he doesn’t think he’s ever been so vulnerable, and she hasn’t even touched him yet. Everything he tries to think burns and explodes like a blinding supernova in the centre of his head, and the intangible sensation would give him a migraine if it wasn’t for Tina, her gentle breath, acting a sweet antidote to his perfect, aroused, incredibly embarrassing storm.

The warm, comforting air of her house hits him in the face, thaws out the residue of the wintry bluster, replaced all too soon, and yet not soon enough, by the slide of Tina’s lips against his.

Mike tries not to whine, a final fight against condemning him to even more humiliation, but as Tina steps away slightly and the pressure of her lips on his relaxes, he can’t hold back the little choked-off noise that escapes him. Fiery tongues of mortification rise up so quickly there’s no way Tina could miss them, confirmed by the little huff of laughter he’s way too familiar with.

“Fucking hell, Mike,” she laughs, but there’s something heavier in it he can’t quite place, “I didn’t realise you were this bad.”

“Not my fault,” he stutters in reply, cursing himself for how fucked and breathy his voice has become, “you were the one working me up in Glee Club and then left me for Brittany and her fucking cupcakes.”

“Scones actually, and we both had class, you idiot. You care way too much about your grades to skip.”

“Debatable.”

“Maybe another time,” she mumbles against his lips, from where he’d pulled her back in. Something in him had snapped at the mocking lilt in her tone, aggravated him just enough to send him right over the edge he’d already been teetering on, and his mind is just a continuous loop of how lucky he is and how badly he wants her.

Reluctantly, he pulls away just long enough to climb the stairs to her bedroom, almost tripping on the top step in his haste to get his hands back on her. He knows his earlier musings are right, he’s addicted with a severity that’s going to rupture his health when it ends, but he’s always been so careful with his heart, and he’s got to be a little risky in order to learn. She’s worth whatever invisible threat looms over him, he thinks, as he falls through the door of her bedroom, messily closing it behind them and pushing her against it.

The sturdiness is a lifeline, because he’s pretty sure he’s going to give out to lust in a moment and judging by the harsh breaths rippling across the nape of his neck, his girlfriend’s in a similar state.

It’s hot, and causes goosebumps to run tauntingly across his skin. 

Mike knows the two of them aren’t making much noise, but the minute space between them is awash with the cacophony of noise, of want, of emotions he can’t begin to place pouring out and manifesting into something that lingers on solid. If he could merely reach out, grab it, maybe it would enable him to put describing Tina into words, the notion always drifting ever so slightly out of reach.

Really, the sentiment isn’t unlike what she was all of last year.

Allowing himself to get momentarily lost in his thoughts renders him unguarded, and for all her gentle smiles that reach her eyes, all that sweet joy that could make anyone want to be her friend, her lover; Tina has an uncanny, innate ability to spot the opportunities. Another small gasp falls from Mike’s lips when her teeth slide across the pulse point on the curve of his shoulder, sucking in a way he knows will leave a mark.

Visibly claiming him isn’t her only aim, though. He knows it’s to leave him weakened, blood fused with a wanton sensation too strong to ignore, and although he might have her up against the wall, it’s her who’s really in control. She doesn’t have to push to force his feet to move back towards the bed subconsciously, doesn’t have to make his hands curl in the thin material of her shirt, Mike is so far gone he’ll do it automatically.

He couldn’t give a fuck about how it might look to anyone else. The only thing better than the promise of Tina is the reality of her, tall and soft and devastatingly beautiful.

Even from their position, despite him being almost collapsed underneath her, Mike still finds the strength to lift her and gently place her on the bed, heart stammering painfully, when her tongue darts out to run over her red, kiss-bitten lips. It might be like electricity, eliciting a dull throb that resonates through him and causes him to go light-headed for what was most likely the millionth time since she attached her lips to his earlier.

Mike doesn’t register her hands clawing at his shirt until the cold air hits his back, stirring him into action. It mixes with the hot air between Tina and him, sets imperceptible sparklers alight, a dangerous concoction sure to burn something down.

He’s just got to hope the pair of them aren’t flammable.

Tina’s fingers trail down his chest, run along his abs, and it’s roughly about then that Mike realises that he’s hard, dick straining against his jeans in a way that’s going to become agony if Tina doesn’t relent soon. Her eyes are dark, pupils dilated with the intoxicating waves of lust, and if his mind wasn’t so shot, if he hadn’t been confined to class instead of kissing her on the backseat of his car for an hour, he might have sat and enjoyed it.

Still, she won’t touch him unless he mollifies her, does something to spurn her into rewarding him, and his dick twitches at the thought. His face warms as he lifts a trembling hand to run along the length of her cheek, kisses her again and uses it to bring a hand to the outline of her breast, gently cupping it through the material.

“Can I?” His voice is almost lost against her mouth, he barely waits for her to nod before he’s fumbling with the buttons, only taking enough care not to rip them in order to not leave a telltale hint later. 

His eyes drop to her skin, his mouth following instantly, placing chaste kisses wherever he can reach, relishing the twinging scrape of her fingernails over his back as he does so. She leans back, falling delicately against the pillows, the headboard, and he follows, lips never leaving her body, smiling at the access she grants him.

If he murmurs sweet nothings against her, that’s for only him to know.

When his eyes flicker up, catch hers staring down at him, she says something he can’t quite make out, but he’s pretty sure it’s his name. He runs a hand down the soft underside of her back, down to the place where it so often curls around and holds her, before darting barely tangible touches back up to the clasp of her bra.

There’s another pause as she sits up, as he gives another silent request for consent before he unfastens it, excited thrum coursing through his veins when the black lace falls away and Mike’s brain short-circuits because she is so fucking gorgeous, he doesn’t know what to do.

Touching her would feel like smudging the most gorgeous piece of artwork, his fingers would blemish her imperfection with their untraceable touch if he went to her skin, so he diverts his attention to fiddling with the complicated button pattern of her skirt.

He’s seen her naked before, but the sight is still enough to strike him dumb, eyes raking over her body greedily, all prior doubt and diffidence melting away as quickly as they came as he touches her; starting at the innocent curve of her waist to pull her towards him, to run her lips across his, to feel the firm, warm pressure of her against him. His bravery mounts as she deepens their kiss, sliding her tongue into his mouth with an intensity he wouldn’t have thought Tina was capable of, a vehemence that belies an affair rather than two teenagers foraging into sex. With it, his hands move, up to her breasts, brushing his thumb against her nipple and almost groaning as she shudders deliciously against him.

Fucking hell, Mike thinks, as she retaliates with a light stroke across his crotch. She should be illegal, what they’re doing illicit, because she’s so fucking perfect he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

The sensation should be repulsive, being at another person’s utter and total mercy. Mike, who spends all his free time dancing and allowing his dreams to conquer him, so renowned for always being in complete control of his body, should hate this. But, as Tina undoes the button on his jeans and pulls the zipper down, freeing his dick from some of the pressure, he can’t bring himself to give a fuck.

“Tina,” he moans, too far gone to cringe at the way his voice cracks on her name, “please.”

“Not quite yet,” she says, airy and destructive, taking his hand to guide them down, sighing as he presses his thumb against her clit. Her fingers curl around his wrist, her free hand moving to run through the sweaty strands of his hair, trailing down his body like she’s mapping him out, re-familiarising herself with the spots she’s memorised that cause him to convulse slightly, for his heart to beat out of time, causing him to involuntarily thrust his fingers against her.

She knows where all his buttons are, is pressing them down all at once and sending him into overdrive, yet still not relenting and giving him what he needs. The inside of his underwear is wet, the faint trace of a mortifying stain showing on the material, tented awkwardly where ignoring it is becoming harder by the second.

Moving his hand back, he slips his forefinger inside her, shuddering at the sudden envelope of warmth, revelling in the airless gasp his girlfriend lets out. Her lips are back on his, which serves as realisation that they even detached, and he must have sweetened her up enough because her fingers are running along the waistband of his underwear, skimming against the line of hair that stretches down from his navel.

The contrast between the ice-cold tips of her fingers and the warmth of the rivers of sensation she sends rippling through him is so jarring he almost forgets how to breathe. She destroys him when she does this, they both know it, and god, he’d let her do it for the rest of his life. 

His voice is a shameless exhale of want, incoherent, words washing over each other as he begs her to take the underwear off, almost blacking out in relief as she obliges.

For once, her being such an effortless distraction has backfired on her, because while she’s preoccupied with ridding him of the last layer of clothing between them, he slips another finger inside her, curling them against her slick heat, watches the reverberations across her face. Tina is so expressive, so unconcerned with self-consciousness when they’re alone, she is so willing to give even when Mike is too out of it to give back.

Kissing her was the best thing he ever did.

“Mike,” she says, snapping his attention back to her face, “fucking hell--,”

“I’m going to need a little bit more than that,” he says, kissing the annoyed look off her face without a second thought, synchronising it with a meticulously placed thrust of his fingertips and feeling her shake against his body.

How can any of it matter, the college debacle he knows is only going to drive cracks in his familial relationships, the conflict of his dreams against his seemingly-inevitable reality? How can it matter when he’s got Tina like this, thighs shaking uncontrollably and biting down on her lip to keep from whining? He’ll never see anything as pretty again in his life.

Tina, it seems, isn’t following his internal monologue, instead allowing herself to give into whatever it is she wants, sliding down to lie flat on the bed, pulling Mike so he’s flush against her, dick caught between the two of them with the tip covered in pre-come, his fingers still buried down inside her. It hasn’t completely lost the awkward, teenage fumble, but he wouldn’t really have it any other way, because it’s with _Tina_ , who he’s pretty certain is the first love of his life.

The change in angle is enough for him to reach a part of her that causes her to jolt, the movements so sharp and wild Mike would be alarmed if he didn’t think it was so fucking hot. Tina, however, must not be quite human because she’s back sentient in milliseconds, hand scrabbling against Mike and muttering refusals from where he’s moved to touch himself.

“Please,” he says again, “you don’t know what you do to me.”

“I think I can get an idea,” Tina’s tone is rough, gravelly, and she doesn’t know how acquainted Mike is to it, he hasn’t told her the extent of dark nights alone in his room, dreaming of her devouring him in this way, waking up with a sticky feeling in his underwear, or infinite masturbation sessions in his shower, imagining everything she could do with her hands, her mouth, accompanied by the low thrum of her voice.

Mike knows better than to protest when she’s in this sort of mood, and maybe if he was a little more daring he might try, remind her of the agony he caused her, but he knows she’ll only laugh at him. It won’t last, after they’ve both come down she’ll curl up with her head on his chest and place kittenish kisses there until they’re both long past asleep, but right now she’s in control and Mike readily gave up the reins to her.

Retaliation comes in the only form he can think of; speeding up the jerk of his fingers inside her, returning his thumb to her clit and tracing small, featherlight circles there, fighting against the power dynamic and watching her surrender in seconds.

His name falls from her lips repeatedly, interspersed with hushed moans that she will have no recollection of once she’s come, but he will. He doesn’t want to blink, for fear of missing a single moment of her, of them, of what they’re doing, and fuck, as Tina clenches against him, whole body trembling as she comes, part of him wishes he could stay there for the rest of his life.

Tina lies motionless for a minute, but as she opens her eyes, still dark and turned-on, but lacking some of the obliterating lust, Mike’s pretty sure she’d echo the sentiment.

“You okay?” He whispers, pressing a kiss against the side of her head, burying his face in her hair. He doesn’t notice her hand raising to hold his neck until he feels the cooling glean of sweat, combining with the musky scent of her perfume, the smell so gorgeous Mike can almost forget the desperate throb of his cock, the unsatisfied thrum still fizzing through him.

“Yeah,” it’s so quiet he almost misses it, “are you?”

“I haven’t come yet,” he reminds her, hiding in the slightly tangled mat so she doesn’t have to see his face, “I don’t have any reason not to be okay.”

“Give me a moment,” she says, “I don’t think it’s fair to make you wait this long and then not give you what you need.”

“No,” Mike says, not caring if it sounds a little gluttonous. Tina doesn’t answer him, maybe she can’t quite spare the exerted effort, and while whatever she might say could provide ammunition for teasing later, it isn’t worth it. She doesn’t have to say anything to let him know how she feels about him, he saw it all in her expression that afternoon at Asian Camp.

Mike has no idea how long they lie there, the seconds stretching out into hours and merging together in an indecipherable cinematic reel. The only thing he’s aware of is the steady beat of Tina’s heart underneath the heavy weight of her breast, the feeling of Tina’s fingers outlining him, the touches fleeting and vague. Nothing else has any meaning, and he wonders if that’s how you’re supposed to know you’ve found love.

If he had, he wouldn’t be mad at his lot.

Even though he can’t see her face, he knows the mischievous expression that tortured him in Glee Club must be painted back on it as Tina’s tracing changes to more concrete, more calculated, more designed to elicit a specific reaction, and the subtle change is enough to cause Mike’s dick to harden so quickly he’s pretty sure all the blood has left his brain. His girlfriend huffs a delighted sound, and god, he’s going to make her pay for his pain.

Then, she curls her fingers around the head of his dick, rubbing a thumb against the little pool of pre-come that’s been there for an embarrassing amount of time. Mike chokes on the air he isn’t even sure he’s breathing.

He makes a noise he intends to be her name. It comes out as an unintelligible whine.

Tina’s hand slides down the length of his cock, not quite holding him hard enough to provide him with the sort of relief he needs, it won’t satiate the blaze swimming in his lower belly, the friction teasing but too dry, too not-enough that Mike’s pretty sure he’s going to fucking die again. He’s going to burn to death and it’s all her fault.

She ignores his moan for more pressure, but does slide back up, slowly setting every single nerve ending into spasms that wrack Mike and leave him gasping for air. His eyes fall shut.

“Fuck, Mike,” she says, and when he manages to open his eyes, he sees her looking back at him, the small smile on her lips, “I missed this.”

“Me too, but Tina, please---,”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He knows she isn’t able to maneuver both of them, and he’s too out of it to help, but before he can even register her absence, she’s back on him, fingers ripping at a condom packet, tooth pointing out to bite at her lower lip in concentration. She moves one leg over him, finally touching him with the pressure he’s needed since they got in here as she slides the condom over him.

Briefly, she leans across to kiss him, the warmth of her spreading out over his upper thigh and  _ fuck _ , this has got to be forbidden, because her being this ruinous is going to kill him and murder is illegal---,

He doesn’t get a chance to continue with that train of thought as Tina slides onto him.

No matter how many times this happens, he’ll never get used to it. How everything feels so perfect, how he’s overcome by nothing than a primal need to get closer to her, hips stuttering upwards of their own accord as she moves down to meet him.

It’s slow, initially. Mike’s glad for it. If she goes too fast, he’ll come and it’ll all be over too fast, and after weeks of not having anything other than his right hand to get him off, he doesn’t want anything less. Even so, it’s almost too much, the warm, tight sensation of her against him, his hands on her waist, thumbs pressing down so hard he knows she’s going to have a telltale trail of bruises that no one other than him will know about.

Somewhere along it, with Mike’s hips thrusting up erratically and Tina working herself quicker, she starts kissing him again, placing kisses to every inch of skin he can reach, mumbling in satisfaction as she bites another mark into his pulse point. He’s going to be covered in them, and he finds himself awaiting the moment he gets to admire them with anticipation.

That’s when he finds that one spot in her that sends her over the edge, tightening around him and messily sliding her lips on his mouth, no longer caught by the constraints of inhibition. It triggers a chain reaction, because all of a sudden Mike is thinking of nothing but getting off, of Tina and the way she moves, the fire in his belly slowly sinking lower until his balls tighten painfully and he comes so hard he almost blacks out.

It’s faster than he wanted, but judging by the murmurs of how gorgeous he is he can just about make out his girlfriend saying; he can’t bring himself to care.

After, when the dots fade from his vision and Tina’s moved so she’s lying half on top of him, stroking his hair gently like he did to her, he decides it’s worth the last ounce of energy to tell her he loves her.

The last thing he hears before he lets the wave of sleep take over him is,

“I love you too, Mike.”


End file.
